


Caressing his hands

by janjan_the_ninth



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Blood, Bullying, Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, I don't know how to tag this, M/M, blood as in paul picked the skin on his hands to much so it started to bleed, spoiler for last episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janjan_the_ninth/pseuds/janjan_the_ninth
Summary: This is a collection different situation where Paul was nervous enough to start fidgeting.





	Caressing his hands

**Author's Note:**

> We all noticed how Paul caressed Hughs medal at the ceremony and how he would fidget with his hands in some moments. This caressing motion was something I assosiated with Hugh so I wrote a little one shot about it. It shows different situation where Paul was nervous enough to start fidgeting.
> 
> Thanks to Momos_weird_thoughts for beta reading this fanfiction.

School wasn't a good place for him. Well, the lessons were good. He had good grades and would often get extra exercises so he wouldn't get bored. He couldn't say that the classes were bad, because he loved to learn. The breaks and his classmates were the problem. Paul didn't fit and they reminded him of it every day. They were making fun of his interest in mushrooms, disregarding the fact that they were useful in the medical department and their potential in the physics field.

The things they said hurt. He wouldn't cry, he knew that they were just stupid, but he couldn't help getting nervous. Being surrounded by a group of his classmates, all taller than him, did that. He started to pick on the skin around his nails, hoping that they would get bored soon and leave him alone. By the time they did, he had pulled at his cuticles so hard, that they bled.

He had always done it, for as long as he remembers. As soon as he felt uncomfortable, out of his depth, he started to become fidget. He had tried to control it, to hide it, but his hands always betrayed him. Whether he was screamed at, made fun of or tried to express his feelings, it didn't matter. He would always start picking on his skin, his cuticle or his nails. And it happened on more than one occasion, like that time on the schoolyard, that he picked on his cuticles so much that they started to bleed, without him even noticing.

__________________

They’d been waiting for an answer about their research funding the whole day. No answer so far. Straal was working on the other end of the table, writing down his findings about the interconnectedness of new spores to the network on a stack of paper. Writing like this was his way to work through nervous situations. Paul instead had started to pick the skin on his hands hours ago. He couldn't concentrate, his thoughts always running back to the message they were yet to receive. At least his hands weren’t bleeding yet. He adjusted the lens of the microscope with one hand while his other lay on the table, picking on his cuticles.

“Will you stop that?” Straal’s annoyed voice broke his newly won concentration.

“Huh?”

“Will you stop fidgeting? They’ll send us a message soon.”

“You know that…”, he started but he was interrupted by Straal.  
“... that you do that when nervous and you can’t control it. I know, I know. But this isn’t the end of the world. Relax, we’ll get our funding for our fungi.”

“Ok, I’ll try, just please, never say that again.”, he said, trying to hide his smile.

In the next few minutes he actually managed to get work done, until a pen hit him on his shoulder, followed by an annoyed “Stop!”  
He tried to stop it, he really did, but like always he continued picking his skin a few moments later. A few more pens flew his way, the stop that followed them getting more annoyed with each toss. He also got more annoyed with each moment. In the end he was so annoyed that the annoyance surpassed his nervousness. Straal really had done it and made him stop his fidgeting. Even if it was just for this moment. Finally he could continue to work, not worrying about the funding at all. That was until Straal broke his concentration once again.

“Hey Paul?”, Straal stage whispered.

“What? I haven’t done anything.” He was irritated, very irritated. He stopped the picking, so why couldn't Straal leave him alone?

“I need a pen.”

“You are such a dick, do you know that?”

“Yes, but you love me for that." 

Throwing a pen at Straals face helped too.

__________________

He had no reason to be fidget. No reason at all. Hugh and him had been on dates before. Today was no different. So why washe feeling so nervous? Sure, he planned on telling Hugh how he felt about him, about them, tonight, but that still didn't explain the nervousness. He was in love with Hugh and he was pretty sure that Hugh felt the same. So talking about his emotions shouldn't be so difficult. 

By the time Hugh arrived he had already started to pick at his skin. He continued to do so the whole evening, without noticing. Only when Hugh took his hand to ask him what was wrong, did he noticed it. With Hughs hand in his, stroking it with his thumb, he calmed down a bit. Enough to tell him about his feelings. Which Hugh reciprocated. All the nervousness for nothing. Later, when they were snuggling onto each other in bed Hugh asked him about it.

“It’s something I’ve always done when I’m nervous. You don't have to worry about it.”

“It looked painful.”

“Most of the time I don't even notice that I’m doing it. I tried to stop doing it as a child but it never worked.”

“Have you tried doing something else instead?”, Hugh asked, taking Pauls hand in his.

“What do you mean?”

“When I took your hand and started to run my thumb over the back of your hand, you calmed down. Maybe you could try to stroke your hand instead of picking on your skin, imagining that I’m holding you hand, helping you.”

“I think I can try that.”

And he did try it. Everytime he noticed that he was fidgeting again, picking his skin, he stopped and imagine the calmness he felt while Hugh ran his thumb over his hand. It helped and soon he was caressing his hand instead of picking his skin.

__________________

He was nervous at the ceremony. Nervous and uncomfortable. The thoughts of what they’ve all been through, of what they’ve lost, he had lost in the war wouldn't leave his head. Michaels speech was moving, speaking of the values of Starfleet, reminding them of what they’d been fighting for. Still he felt lost. 

It was difficult to stay still through all of this, his hands wanting to do something, to tinker with his equipment, to be in motion, to hold Hughs hand. But it was not becoming to fidget at an official ceremony. So he stood there, arms pressed strait to his sides. It hurt when they gave him the medal that was meant to be Hughs. It hurt, but it was also a relief. He started to caress it with his thumb, like he would have caressed Hughs hand. It calmed him enough so he could make it through the ceremony without breaking down.

__________________

He couldn't remember a single time when he had been as nervous as he was now. Nor a time when he had been as happy as he was in that moment. The combination of those emotions made him fidget. He slowly paced in front of the door, trying desperately not to wring his black suit with his hands. He didn’t want to wrinkle it. Everything had to be perfect. Instead he was rubbing his fingers with his thumb. 

He was so lost in thoughts, that he didn't notice, that the door opened and someone entered the room. A familiar hand took ahold of his, making him relax into the touch. As he looked up, he couldn't suppress a smile. His thumb instantly started to run over the hand, while intertwining their other hands. Soon he felt the back of his hand being caressed too. This little familiar gesture, a hand holding and caressing his, made him calm down.

“How are you?”

“I’ve never been better.”, Paul said, meaning every word. Seeing Hugh in front of him, in a dashing white suit, makes him the happiest man in the universe. He leaned forward to steal a quick kiss from Hugh. Which earned him a small huff of amusement.

“You know you aren't supposed to do that, not right before the ceremony.” That made him pout. “But afterwards you can kiss me as much as like, for the rest of our lives.”

“That sounds lovely, my dear doctor.”

“Tilly said that everyone is there. Ready to get married, my love?”

“Yes.”

Together they walked into the chapel, hand in hand, Pauls thumb never stopped caressing Hughs hand.

**Author's Note:**

> As always English isn't my first language, so if you find any mistakes or something I could improve, feel free to leave a comment or message me. You can also find me on tumblr: Janjan-the-ninth.tumblr.com


End file.
